FFT: Transcendence
by NoahK
Summary: After King Delita Hyral's death, a tribal kingdom bands together with an all out invasion that throws the entire world into an uncertain balance... the only question is, 'who is really the enemy'?
1. Prelude

**Final Fantasy Tactics: Transcendence**

**By: Mike Smith**

            I am not sure if anyone will find this, but it does not matter.  I have spent the last four years of my life trapped in my own mind.  I know fully well what I am doing, and I accept my fate.  I just do not understand what I intend to do with it.  The people I am trying to save barely care about my existence, and they probably will never even know my name.  But, actually, I am glad it will end this way.  If I knew that everyone would consider me a hero, it would completely cloud my motives.

            It once was said by an ancient Sylvanyen proverb that "the eyes are the window to the soul".  I have taken that seriously ever since I first heard it.  I constantly strove to reach that point where I could look into someone's eyes and see their soul; see what they were thinking.  I've reached that point, and I wish I never began that quest.  It will be the death of me, I am sure of that.  I assume my fate would have been the same regardless of my personal journeys, but it has made me lose hope in virtually everything.

            If the eyes are the windows to the soul, then you are looking through the pupil.  And the pupil reveals nothing but blackness and an utter void.  There is nothing there behind that glass that can be seen but darkness.  And what are windows anyway?  They protect us in our homes from the outside; the weather, the heat, the cold, the truth.  We stay cozy in our houses while the world continues to live on the other side of the shutters.  I also find it quite strange to put all of your faith in such a fragile thing.  Windows really do not protect anything at all.  There is no guarantee that those windows will shield you from the rain, the snow, even an intruder.  Yet everyone is content when those shutters are closed and they are asleep in their beds.  And now, I leave, so everyone can remain comfortable in their darkness and in their ignorance.

            Those pupils are no longer the black part of the eyes that I see.  It is all black now.  Everyone I see has completely dark eyes, and it frightens me.  Maybe I am leaving because I am scared of everyone, even myself.  I cannot even look at my own reflection anymore.  But, the darkness is not what scares me.  The fact that scares me the most is that I am not sure about what side of the window I am on anymore.  Perhaps my eyes are not the windows that protect me from the outside.  Maybe, my eyes are the windows that protect the outside from me.  Either way, it is such a fragile thing to entrust to the protection of anything at all.

            I just hope that God can forgive me of what it is I am about to do for the sake of the people of this world, because I am not even sure anymore about what will happen when I stop writing this letter to no one.  Everything I do now is neutral, and it is an awful feeling.  I would rather be filled with devotion, love, or even hate than this feeling of apathy.  Perhaps I can end this neutrality once and for all.  I know there are two forms of evil in the world, and maybe I can destroy one of them.

            Now that I have finished my letter, I actually hope no one reads this.  Apathy is not something I wish on anyone.  And I hope that Sylvanyen proverb dies with me.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1  
**by: Mike Smith********

            The noon sun was striking Burgund's back unusually hard.  He had already taken off his cassock, and was beginning to contemplate taking his alb off as well.  It had been a long time since he had ever been that hot in Lionel; the last time he could remember that kind of sweltering heat was when he had played with the school children about seven years ago.  He remembered playing games in the schoolyard before church, and the running around made him sweat under all of his vestments.  But, that was under a lot of physical activity.  Now he was just riding a chocobo, and he felt hotter than when he ran around the church racing a young girl.  Those young children had since grown up.  That thought made him want to weep on occasion.

            The hills ahead of Burgund were growing closer, and the air waved as the heat rose off the ground.  Gazing up ahead, he began to remember the area from past travel.  A river ran between the hills, so after taking his alb off, he patted the giant bird on the head and reassured him that water would be coming soon.  He knew that the bird couldn't understand him, but he always talked to him anyway.  The chocobo, which he had named Lux, had been with him for a long time and for a while he was his only companion.  They had shared this road before as well, and after his quick reassurance, Lux turned his head and almost seemed to give Burgund a look that said "I already knew that."  Burgund laughed.  He smiled at Lux and apologized.

            It took Lux longer than he remembered to travel up the hill, but once they reached the top, Burgund let out a sigh of relief.  The river, although it seemed lower then the usual level by looking at the banks, was still exactly as he remembered it.  But, one thing was different.  Someone was already down at the river gathering water.  Burgund peered down and squinted through the waves of heat to try and figure out who the person was that took his favorite rest spot on the road.  The man's white hair rested flatly against his head, either being naturally that way or being matted down by sweat from the heat.  He was wearing a tan tunic and short quilted pants that came down to roughly his knees.  Burgund didn't recognize the man until he spotted the alb and cassock draped across the man's grazing chocobo.

            "Chort my good friend!"  Burgund waved his hand high above his head to make sure Chort could see him through the haze.  He could see Chort turn around and put his hand flat across his forehead to block the sun.  After a few moments, Chort waved his hand in return.

            "Burgund!  It has been a long while.  Come down and drink with me!"

            Burgund smiled, although he realized Chort could probably not see it from that distance.  Burgund gently dug his heels into the sides of his steed, making the chocobo rear his head back only slightly and begin to trot downhill.  As Burgund got closer to where Chort was sitting, he began to pick out more of his features.  Chort had aged quite a bit since the last time they met.  Once Burgund became a bishop, he served as an assistant to Chort at a Church school in Zaland Fort City. He served with him for about three years, but Chort later was moved to the head of the Zaland diocese.  Burgund then took over as headmaster, and he had not seen Chort in five years since then.  Although it wasn't a long period of time, Chort's wrinkles were much more pronounced now and his hair was almost completely white, which was a great variation from the raven black hair he had before in his younger years.  After a few minutes of travel, he arrived at the river and greeted Chort cordially.

            "It has been too long."  Burgund and Chort extended their right hands and grabbed each other around the forearm, pulling each other into an embrace.

            "Yes it has my dear friend."  Chort's wrinkled smile was still the same.  "How is the school?"

            "It is well.  There are quite a bit more children since you moved, but it is still the same way as you left it."

            Chort peered into Burgund's eyes.  "You say that with a bit of sadness, dear friend."  Burgund shrugged, especially because he knew Chort was right.  "I think I already know what's on your mind."

            "I just grow tired of war, Chort.  I thought the Lion War would end it, but if it is not one quest for power it is another."  Chort sat down on the large log he was originally sitting on when Burgund came over the hill.  He motioned him to sit next to him.  Burgund patted Lux on the side and watched as the graceful bird walked to the river's edge and begin to drink, and after a large sigh, sat down next to his comrade.

            "You are afraid of what will happen to the children?"

            Burgund paused for a moment to gather his thoughts.  "One of my best students graduated this year.  He could have had a bright future, maybe even in the priesthood.  But, he took up the sword instead."  He gazed over the water and watched the small river ripple over the low rocks.  "His parents live in Zeltennia, and he decided to join the army and protect his homeland.  The war does not look like it is going well, and I most likely will never see him again."

            Chort clasped his hands and rested his elbows on his knees.  "This is the way of war, Burgund.  There are times where man feels that if he takes up the sword, he could save the world."  Burgund continued to stare at the water.  "It is an instinct that has been around longer than the Sylvanyens."  Chort's heavy Sylvanyen accent showed through even more than Burgund remembered

            "I suppose you are right.  But it doesn't have to be that way.  One more sword will probably not help the world."  He turned towards his friend and extended his arms out in frustration.  "And what happens if the war reaches our borders?  There will be a huge amount of refugees, and I will not be able to bear seeing those Zeltennian children starving."

            Chort sighed.  "When did you lose your trust in God, Burgund?  Everything happens for a reason, even if Satan himself has plans to the contrary."  Burgund shook his head in confusion.  "Do you doubt?"

            "Isn't it healthy to doubt at times?  I've learned not to trust everything blindly after the Lion War.  I'm sure you have an old Sylvanyen proverb for that."

            Chort laughed and patted Burgund on the back.  "I'm sure I do somewhere in my memory, but it is not as good as it used to be.  Actually, I have not seen Sylvanye since I became a bishop.  I have lost quite a few of those proverbs over the years."  Burgund smiled at Chort.  "Perhaps when it is time for me to retire from the priesthood I will take you with me to see the beauties of the Dortolye Forest."

            "I would love to see it.  Unfortunately, I am not a well traveled man.  I might faint at the sight of something different."  The two friends laughed together for a few moments, but returned to their serious tone.

            "So, why have I been summoned as well?  A schoolmaster does not fit well with the heads of the Lionel dioceses."

            Chort shrugged as Burgund asked his question.  "Apparently this is a very important meeting.  The High Priest has always liked you, Burgund.  Perhaps he just wanted you there."

            Burgund, who never took well to flattery, simply waved off Chort's remark.  "Either way, I will feel very awkward there.  I do not know as much about the high affairs of the church as the other cardinals and bishops.  I will be very out of place."

            "Maybe you should take it as a trial by fire."  Burgund turned to expect a smile on Chort's face.  But his look was serious this time.  It was a very disturbing seriousness.  Chort quickly changed the subject as he saw his assistant moving along the river downstream while holding the reigns of his mount.  "My assistant has returned.  You are welcome to rest with us.  That way, we can make the journey shorter by taking time to catch up as we ride."

            "I'll agree to that, old man."  Burgund and Chort chuckled at the comment.  "I don't recognize your assistant.  Would I know him from a previous meeting?"

            "No, you have never met him before.  His name is Brother Josephus.  He is a monk from a monastery within the Zaland diocese.  Apparently, he gave his life to the service of God at a very young age."

            "That is very respectable.  He looks and sounds like he is a disciplined man.  Neither you nor I could bear the heat in our robes, yet he walks comfortably in his."

            "Burgund, he is the most disciplined man I have ever met."

            Josephus had made his way up to the two companions after a few moments, and as he approached the place where Burgund sat, he realized that he wasn't even breaking a sweat.  The only thing he could do was stand and marvel at the man as he drew near.  Once he was close, Burgund rose from his seat next to Chort and outstretched his arm to greet Josephus.

            "It is a pleasure to meet you, Brother Josephus.  I am Bishop Burgund de Charlier."  With his arm still outstretched, Josephus simply bowed slightly and continued on past the two to where the other chocobo were grazing.  Reinstating his perplexed look, Burgund turned to Chort.  "Is that any way to greet a bishop of the church?"

            Chort gave a quick half smile.  "When he entered the church as a child, he took a vow of silence.  He hasn't spoken another word since that day."

*          *          *          *          *          *          *

            It became harder to realize familiar features in the terrain as Burgund reached the end of his journey with his old and new friends.  It had been at least a few hours since the sun had set, and just as the heat was unusual in the afternoon, the darkness seemed unusually thick as well.  Even with each of them holding torches they could only see so far.  But, the well traveled road seemed to be in a better condition than when they first started traveling on it, which was a good sign that they were close to their destination.

            The trip did seem a lot shorter with a friend to travel it with.  Chort and Burgund caught up on everything that they had missed over the years.  Although Burgund began the journey in a somber mood, he began to find a little more hope and comfort with each foot fall.  After reaching the crest of one last, large hill, Burgund could see the lights of many torches in the distance.

            "It has been a while since I have seen the gates of Lionel Castle."  Burgund tried to picture the full shape of the fortress by viewing all of the lit torches, but it couldn't fully come into his memory.  "I still don't understand why the High Priest chose to meet here instead of the Great Cathedral."

            "These are dangerous times," Chort turned his head to see where Josephus was at that moment, and after seeing he was right behind him, continued on with his statement, "and you can never be sure in dangerous times."

            "I suppose so, but it does not make me feel any better about this meeting."

            Chort gave a brief laugh, and continued pressing onward while Burgund was still trying to piece together the memory of the building.  After riding for a short period, Josephus ended up trailing behind them for a small distance.  Burgund began speaking so that the monk would not hear him.

            "He must make for fun conversations as your assistant."

            Chort humored Burgund with a small chuckle.  "Josephus always gets the job done, exactly when it needs to be done.  Although he has only been my assistant for a short time, he has served me very well."

            Burgund tried to segue into his curiosity of the man without sounding obvious.  "So, when did he become a monk?"

            Chort sighed as if he had been asked that question too many times before.  "He was abandoned as a small child.  No one knows his age, but the other monks speculated that he was only around four years old when he entered."

"And he entered the church as a monk right then and there?"  Burgund only became more intrigued.

"Shortly thereafter he was inducted.  When he was found, he asked to be confessed alone with the priest, so Father Anthony took him into the confessional to honor his request, although he seemed too young to be confessed.  Apparently they were there for hours, and when they exited, Josephus never spoke a word again.  Father Anthony is the only one that we know of who spoke with him, and he refuses to tell anyone about the experience."

Burgund only grew in his curiosity.  "That is fascinating.  He seems to have incredible devotion to the Church.  Perhaps he will want to move on and serve others as well in the priesthood."

"From the little that I know about him, I think that not only does he want to stay where he is currently, but that he has to stay there."

Burgund nodded slightly to show that he understood.  "I guess if you do not wish to speak, the priesthood is not for you."

The torches in the distance grew closer as they continued their conversation.  As they reached the gate of Lionel Castle, Burgund's memory returned to him from his last visit.  The gates were huge, roughly 25 feet high, and Burgund had to strain to look up the wall to the top.  After a few moments of waiting, a guard holding a spear in one hand and a torch in the other, dressed in the purple and red colors of the Church, moved to the walls edge and called down to them.

"This is Lionel Castle.  Who wishes to proceed through these gates?"

Burgund opened his mouth to begin to speak, but Chort waved him off and replied.  "Bishop Burgund de Charlier and I, Bishop Chort Alexeev, have come upon the High Priest's request.  We are friends of the High Priest."

The guard called back down to the three travelers.  "Any friend of the High Priest is a friend of the Church.  Enter."

The torch disappeared behind the wall at the same instant the large gate began its slow ascent.  After it moved half way, the gate stopped, and Chort led Burgund and Josephus through the gatehouse.  As Burgund moved through, he looked up at one of the outer turrets.  A torch was burning inside the turret, and right as he entered the gatehouse, he could see a slight flash of light off a metallic object.  Someone was aiming an arrow out of the window of the turret.  Chort saw Burgund staring at the tower.

"As I said, dear friend, these are dangerous times."

The three made there way through the houses and shops that were contained within the walls of the great castle without speaking much more, and once they reached the keep, Burgund stopped for a moment in disbelief.  A small convoy of carriages was beside the stables.  The carriages were definitely foreign.

"Tell me the truth.  Who are we actually meeting today, Chort?"

The wind picked up slightly after he asked the question.  As the wind blew, the flags attached to the carriages stretched out.  The flags were yellow, and were adorned with three interlocking triangles in a circle with a scimitar laid overtop of the symbols.

"I think God has just given you your answer."  Chort continued on with Josephus as Burgund remained staring at the waving flags.  In an instant, any hope that returned to him from meeting his old friend left from his mind.  After what seemed like a lifetime of staring at the flags, Burgund lowered his head and continued on to the keep.  The flags of Havadmas continued to wave in the wind behind him.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2  
**by: Mike Smith****

Each window Burgund passed made him wince.  The morning light took an unusual long time to creep over the hills, but the first beam seemed to intentionally wait to strike him in the eyes when he needed to walk down the long hall on the eastern side of the keep.  It almost made him dread getting up that morning, but he had enough on his mind to eventually drown out the pain in his eyes.

Every step he took echoed through the hall, reverberating off the thick stone walls.  Burgund even tried to step lightly, but to no avail.  It was almost as if the castle was built that way.  The halls made everyone contemplate every step they took and forced them to remember where they were going.  Burgund didn't want to remember.  It all appeared as if it were an awful dream he could not awaken from.  The first time he walked through those halls years ago he did not have that feeling.  He was excited to see Lionel Castle in its entire splendor, and he enjoyed every step he made through the large structure.  Now, he regretted each step, and he wished that he never came.  As he neared the large doors that enclosed his destination, his steps grew louder as the echoes met in an almost harmonious fashion.  Burgund could not imagine what it would sound like if many people were traveling the halls at once.  The sound would most likely be deafening.

As Burgund rounded the final corner, the giant, ornate doors were straight in front of him.  On each side of the doors was a soldier, standing tall and still as Burgund approached them.  They were heavily clad in finely made, full plate armor, with a spear in their right hand and a large shield in their left.  The shields each of them held were very colorful, picturing something else other than the normal purple and red crest of the Church.  It wasn't until Burgund got closer that he could see the shields in all of their detail.  Each shield pictured a full painting, and after careful examination, Burgund saw that they both represented a different deed done by Saint Ajora.  The style was incredible, and Burgund could not even begin to fathom the time it took to etch each scene into the metal of the guards' shields.

 As Burgund took his final steps towards the great doors, one of the guards began to speak.  "Welcome to the Chapel of Saint Ajora's Destiny.  The other Cardinals and Bishops have convened inside.  Please enter."

The second guard moved from his absolute still position towards the great doors and pulled on the handle of the rightmost door of the set.  It seemed to take a great bit of effort to finally dislodge the door from its resting place, but once it began to move the guard seemed to have an easier time with it.  The creaking sound filled the hallway and was almost as deafening as Burgund imagined it would be as the sound waves bounced off the stone around him.  Once the door opened, the guard returned to his post and stood at attention.

Once Burgund entered the Chapel, he once again was amazed.  He had never seen the inner sanctum of the keep of Lionel Castle, and the sight was enough to bring a tear to the eye of even the hardest of non-believers.  Towards the back of the Chapel was a large set of stair that processed up towards the center of a giant stain glass window picturing Saint Ajora with his arms outstretched.  The stairs got so close to the window that someone could reach out and touch the chest of the pictured Ajora.  Candles lit the entire length of the stairs, and as Burgund walked down the fine red carpet that proceeded towards the area where the other Cardinals and Bishops were sitting, he could not stop marveling at the beauty of the room.

The Bishops and the Cardinals were all talking amongst themselves in hushed voices as Burgund approached the semi circular arrangement of tables.  At the center of the semi circle sat High Priest Heartus XIV, the highest advocate of God on Earth, on an obviously higher, more ornate throne than the rest of the participants of the meeting.  Once Burgund reached the High Priest, he knelt down as the High Priest brought the tip of his staff towards Burgund's mouth.  Burgund stared at the staff for a moment and said a prayer to himself before kissing the staff and greeting Heartus.  Without saying a word, Burgund rose and bowed his head.

The High Priest addressed Burgund.  "Bishop Burgund de Charlier, I welcome you to the Chapel of Saint Ajora's Destiny.  Peace be with you."

"And also with you, your eminence."

Burgund kept his head bowed as the High Priest continued.  Heartus took his left hand and pointed his fingers towards the ceiling, moving his hand towards the center of his body.  "May God give you his blessings now and forever."

Burgund raised his head and made the same motion with his hand.  "I will praise him now and at the hour of my death."

The High Priest lowered his hand, and shortly afterwards Burgund did the same after the High Priest finished his motion.  The High Priest waved his hand towards the only empty seat to his left and addressed Burgund in a less formal fashion.  "Please, take your seat.  It is always a pleasure to see you Burgund.  Your young face gives me great joy."

"And it always honors me to be in your presence."  Burgund gave a quick nod to the High Priest and moved to his seat.  Although he was so uncomfortable being in the presence of virtually all of the highest ranking men in the Church, he felt a little more at ease when he noticed that Chort was sitting on the left side of the empty seat.  Circling the edge of the semicircular table, he reached his destination and sat down cautiously, being sure to observe all of the proper Church etiquette that he had virtually forgotten from his early priesthood.  Chort smiled as Burgund took more than a few moments to make sure he sat correctly.

Chort spoke to Burgund over the murmur of the other Bishops.  "Loosen up, Burgund, before you break your own back from tension."

Burgund felt a little bead of sweat roll off of his forehead.  "That is easy for you to say, old man.  You've done this a hundred times before.  I've never been to such an official meeting in my entire life." Burgund wiped his brow with his sleeve.  "And besides, I couldn't sleep well last night."

"Did those golden flags scare you?"

"Maybe," Burgund tried to keep his cool in the presence of the other bishops, "but it was more because of other reasons."

"And what reasons would those be?  Is something on your mind?"

Burgund scowled slightly and looked towards the door as he arranged his cassock underneath him.  "I would rather not discuss it."

"Very well, then.  But if the Havadman flags were at the source of your worries, fear not.  God always provides."

Burgund tried to make his smile look heartfelt, covering up his sarcasm.  "I am sure he will, just as he always does.  I just hope he provides for us all."

Chort furrowed his brow and clasped his left hand around Burgund's shoulder.  "Faith, Burgund, faith."

After Chort released his grip, one of the guards opened one half of the large doors and entered in his full glory, holding the brightly decorated shield in front of him as he walked towards the center of the semicircle.  Once he reached the spot where Burgund greeted the High Priest, he knelt down and awaited the High Priest's blessing.

"The honored guests of Lionel have arrived and await your approval of entry."

Heartus nodded at the guard.  "God's doors are always open to those who wish to enter with words to speak."

The guard quickly stood up and did an about face, marching back to the doors he came in through.  He closed the door behind him, and for what seemed like ages, nothing happened.  Burgund began sweating even more.

"What's going on?"  Burgund tried to keep his voice down to not disturb the quiet that now hushed all of the occupants in the room.

Chort leaned over to speak softly in Burgund's ear.  "The Guards of the Chapel are briefing the visitors on where they are entering.  Not anyone can just enter here without showing respect."

In a slow creaking fashion, the doors swung open, each being pushed by one of the guards.  Before the mammoth doors were opened completely, two men began walking through.  The one was ornately garbed in fine linens.  Decorations flowed up the sides of his robes and along his sleeves, and the interlocked triangles of Havadmas adorned many locations along his garments.  The second man seemed to be the complete antithesis of the first.  His robe was a dark scarlet color, but it had no decorations on any part of it.  A large hood covered his head, and it was too dark and hung too low to see into it and look at the man's face.  They both slowly walked into the room, and once they reached their place in front of the High Priest, they simply stood and waited.  A small murmur arose as they did not pay proper respect to the High Priest.

Heartus nodded slightly, showing a sign that he was willing to overlook the lack in the traditional gesture of respect.  "I welcome you to the Chapel of St. Ajora's Destiny, gentlemen.  Please, state your business, so we may know why you have asked for this meeting."

The scarlet robed man simply stood silent and still as the ornately dressed man spoke.  "I am Malachi Dronqui, high diplomat of the Havadman Empire.  I have come here to negotiate with you."

This brought a smile to Heartus and many of the higher Cardinals' faces.  The High Priest raised his hand to quiet the murmuring priests.  "Have you come to ask for the forgiveness of the Glabados Church?  Have you come to takes steps to reverse your excommunication?"  Heartus seemed to speak in a surprised yet eager tone.

Malachi gave a half smirk at the High Priest's comment.  "I have come here to negotiate something quite different, your eminence."  Malachi placed his hands behind his back and spoke with a deeper, more authoritative voice as he continued.  "Emperor Amacha Kanhar has issued this decree to the leaders of the Glabados Church.  The Glabados Church will be unharmed in all kingdoms from this point forward and the territory of the Church, Lionel, will be free from invasion if the High Priest accepts Emperor Amacha Kanhar's rule and claims his legitimacy to the throne of the world."

This statement caused an uproar within the chapel.  Burgund looked around, not knowing how to react himself, as the Cardinals and Bishops stood up and shouted at the emissaries and spoke to each other in harsh, loud tones.  Malachi continued to speak even as the men around him shouted and pointed at him.  Burgund squinted to make out Malachi's features.  The man did not seem to be bothered at all by anything that was going on around him.  As Burgund was trying to piece together what was going on, a sunbeam entered the room from a small window.  The beam cut through the center of the room, intersecting the distance between the two Havadman diplomats.  As Burgund followed the beam, he saw a small, almost unnoticeable flash of light arise from the robe of the hooded man.  It took a moment for the flash to register in Burgund's brain.

Burgund rose to his feet and tried to shout over the clatter.  "He has a blade!"  Most of the room didn't hear him, and as Chort spun his head around to see what Burgund was pointing at, the scarlet robed man had already pulled the knife out, and in a flash of color, hurled it directly at the High Priest.  The knife streamed through the air effortlessly, and much to the surprise of Burgund's widened eyes, the knife stuck blade down into the wood of the table directly in front of the High Priest.  The room went silent as the guards rushed towards the two men.

Heartus, visibly shaken, motioned the guards to stop.  "If he wanted to kill me he could have."  His voice echoed off the walls in the now silent room.  After telling the other Cardinals and Bishops to take their seats again, Heartus arose slowly from his chair and addressed the two ambassadors.  "You two men have come here to negotiate our surrender.  That will never happen.  You have not even reached our borders, and our followers will not bow down to you or your evil Gods.  This is preposterous, and your presence is no longer welcome here.  And if you decide to attack me like this again, you will be dead where you stand."

Malachi's initial grimace returned.  "We used to believe in the same God, your eminence."   Malachi reached into his pocket, and as the guards leveled their spears at him, he pulled out a coin.  "Now, let me make a contribution to your growing God."

Malachi placed the coin above his thumb and flicked it into the sky.  As the coin rotated in midair, the light glistened off of the spinning piece of gil, and after it slowly made it's decent, it landed in front of Heartus directly beside his knife.  The sound the gil made as it hit the table filled the room and reverberated off of every wall.  It was deafening to Burgund ears, and he almost cringed at the sound.

"You will get no mercy at the hands of our soldiers, High Priest.  You now have the blood of all of your followers on your hands."

Heartus frowned at the two men.  "And you, demons of hell, will get no mercy when you are judged by God."  Heartus sat back down and looked towards the two guards, who still had their spears leveled at the emiisaries.  "Please escort these men out of this holy place, and make sure they leave as quickly as they came."

Malachi turned towards the guards in defiance, but the scarlet clad man stood for a moment.  He slowly approached Heartus from his original position at the center of the men he came to meet, the same position he hadn't moved from since they arrived.  With each step, Burgund felt inclined to throw himself in front of the High Priest, but he couldn't move.  He simply stood their and watched as the man stepped silently up the small stairs to the center of the semi circle of tables.  Once he reached Heartus, he slowly put his hand around the grip of the knife and pulled it out of the table as gradually as possible.  Burgund could hear the wood creak as he inched the blade out with slowly timed precision.  Once the blade was released from the wood's grasp, he turned around to follow Malachi.

The man stepped as silently as he did before, but he lifted his head towards Burgund as he passed the ray of light that alerted the bishop to his hidden knife.  As the light flashed over his face, Burgund could make out small details for the instant that the sunbeam passed over the man's hood.  But he didn't see what he expected.  All that Burgund could make out was that he had no face.  It was just a mask.  He couldn't make out the fine minutiae of the mask, but the haunting image of painted blood flowing from the mask's eyes made Burgund shiver.

Once the two men left the room, the other Cardinals and Bishops rose again with a clatter.  Burgund simply remained seated, quietly panning the room from side to side trying to compose himself as he watched.  He looked at the T-shaped symbol of Saint Ajora at the back of the chapel to try and concentrate for a moment and gather his thoughts.  As hard as he tried, all that Burgund could see in his mind was the mask with the bleeding eyes.


End file.
